Notes: The characters are not mine, and this ficlit is! I know I haven't written for the fandom in a while, but the character Mello from Death Note, and the new community 13 Fears on Livejournal, have given me ideas for Alister. I have taken up a claim for him at this community, and I will be writing mostly about a time I haven't explored too much: his time in the Doom/Doma Organization. Most of the stories will probably be short, as they depict momentary events. Therefore, I will post them as a multi-chapter submission, which is something I don't do for my other claims, since they tend to generate longer stories. Thanks to Angelflare, whose little stories taking place during the Kingdom Hearts games helped to give me the idea for how to write my Alister claim! And the comment about the scars is a nod to Lisa's fics. The title of the story is a nod to one of my other fandoms, a line from the song One-Winged Angel that seems to fit Alister well during this time period.

This first entry takes place right at the start of the season, during the first episode.

#1. Hemophobia; Fear of Blood (it's just a little blood)

The red was swirling around in the sink, mingling with the running water and then splashing against the sides. Gray eyes widened, and a low curse escaped the lips as he continued to hold his bleeding palms under the stream. It would not stop. . . . Why would it not stop?! He had not dug that deeply into the flesh. . . .

Now it looked like the falling water was mostly clear. He gingerly extended the tips of his fingers, turning the tap as the crystal slowed to a trickle and then to a drip before vanishing entirely.

He reached for the towel on the rack by the side of the sink, patting dry his hands and the small wounds. As he moved the cloth back, he studied the breakings in the flesh with contemplation.

They were all slight crescents, of varying sizes. Some seemed to have ceased to bleed entirely, while others featured hints of red somewhere nearby the openings, ready to seep out again.

Valon, knowing him, would yell at Alister if he came in and saw that he had done it again. Not that he would take much stock in anything that annoying Australian would say.

He could not help it, he had gotten so angry! He had been watching the television when a press conference for Kaiba Corporation had come on. He hated them so much, and yet whenever one was airing, he always watched, to see what new lies Kaiba was going to tell. Well, part of what he had said tonight was true---Kaiba Corporation was not responsible for the sudden outbreak of Duel Monsters running loose in the world.

He had smirked slightly, when hearing that the company was suspected of it. They needed controversy now and then, to tarnish that prestigeous reputation. And someday, the truth of Gozaburo's involvement in the war would come out. When the time was right, maybe after Kaiba's soul was locked away, he would make sure all the skeletons were released from the closet. Then the Kaiba Corporation would crumble, as it should have done years ago.

Or maybe that should happen before he took Kaiba's soul. Let him suffer a bit first, seeing the fruits of his labors fall apart.

Anyway, it had been the next part of the press conference that had made him furious. The reporters had asked Kaiba about the future of the Kaiba Land parks, and he had said that plans were still going forth to make them possible everywhere. After all, Kaiba Corp "cared about the future of underprivileged children."

What a joke! They cared so much that they had sold weapons to both sides in the war, and had blown up tanks when they had surely seen that innocent children were being lifted inside for protection. . . .

Miruko. . . .

Kaiba Corporation had been the death of his little brother. Well, now he would be the death of them.

He fumbled with the latch on the first aid kit, annoyed as it continually slipped from his fingers. But at last it clicked, and the lid popped up, revealing the carefully guarded contents. He reached inside for a disinfectant wipe, still using the tips of his fingers and being certain not to poke the edges of the wrapper into his wounds.

He brushed the damp paper gently, yet quickly, over his palms, sensations of both satisfaction and frustration at the sting sweeping over him. It meant that he was alive, that he was going to be able to enact the plans he had waited for over the past years. But it also meant that he was alive and alone. If only one of them was going to survive, it should have been Miruko. Not him. . . . Not when he had been such a horrible brother.

He crumpled the wipe, stuffing it back into its wrapper as he projected it across the room into the waste basket. Then he reached for the gauze. The small cuts probably would not bleed any more, but if they did, he did not want the sticky crimson to get all over the inside of his gloves.

Placing a strip on the edge of the sink, he laid his hand palm down against it and then carefully wrapped it around before cutting and taping it. He had gotten quite skilled at this in the last few years. When it was all said and done, he sometimes wondered if he would have scars on his hands where his fingernails had plunged through the skin.

He repeated the action on his other hand, only finding it slightly awkward to use his non dominant hand for the cutting and taping. Then he replaced the items in the kit, snapped the lid closed, and set it in the medicine cabinet before turning to leave.

Now that the monsters had appeared, it was time for Doom to reveal themselves to the Nameless Pharaoh and his cronies. And then . . . then it would be time for him to finally make himself known to Kaiba.

He smirked darkly as he walked back into his room. Picking up his elbow length gloves, he began to work his hands into them without jarring the gauze. Then he grabbed up his dark coat and his sunglasses before turning off the light.

Yes, this was the beginning of the end---for the impure in heart.

And that certainly included Seto Kaiba.

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